


Haunted

by LittleLottieWrites



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, accidental sleeping beauty au, bellarke reunion, consider yourself warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-15 11:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLottieWrites/pseuds/LittleLottieWrites
Summary: Clarke drew Bellamy's face every day until he came back, but he didn't come back soon enough. Now, maybe, all he has time to do is say goodbye.





	1. Sleeping Beauty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [09Tiff86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/09Tiff86/gifts).



> I am currently look for a beta reader for my next Bellarke fic. Please dm me on Tumblr at Ringabellamy if you are interested :)

_Let’s give them something else to remember you by.”_  
“ _Like what?”_  
“ _How about being the first person on the ground in a hundred years?”_

Bellamy could remember the last time he stood at a drop ship door, his hand on the lever, on the brink of something new. Back then, a blonde haired girl with eyes like the sky and an arrogant attitude had demanded he wait, warning him that the air could be toxic. As if that mattered anymore; they were on the ground, and there was no going back.

That had been seven years ago, before chaos had erupted. Another offhand comment, made to someone long gone: “What’s wrong with a little chaos?” Truly, he’d been asking for it, totally unprepared for just how in over his head he was about to be. If it hadn’t been for her, they would have died in less than three months. If it hadn’t been for him, maybe she would have lived past eight.

“Bellamy?”  
Bellamy’s hand twitched on the lever, and he glanced over his shoulder at the rest of their crew. They waited, looking at him expectantly. It was all wrong. He’d had six years to grow used to leading without her, a role he’d slipped into surprisingly easily. He’d thought it would be hard, but it had echoed back to those first days on the ground, back when he’d thought he could take control of the hundred without much ado. He’d been better this time, less selfish, more thoughtful. But it seemed wrong to return to earth without her, to step back into that vibrant bubble where they’d both been more than what they’d been on the ark.

He met Echo’s eyes briefly, then Emori’s. “Welcome home.”  
Before he let another memory stop him, Bellamy pulled down on the lever. Just like last time, the door hissed open. Unlike last time, they were not met by sunlight and birdsong, and no one rushed past Bellamy to set foot on the ground. Instead, leaves in various shades of brown covered the ground as weak light shone through naked trees and grey, wispy clouds. Through the branches, Bellamy could see the dark and ashy world Primfiya had left behind, save for the small patch of life they had landed in. It looked the way Bellamy had always pictured hell might.

The others cautiously crept forward, curiosity pushing them forward, wariness holding them back. One by one, they dropped to the ground, sucking in lungfuls of fresh air, nearly high on it after years of recycled oxygen.  
“Stay close to the ship,” Bellamy instructed. “Our first priorities are food and water. Go in pairs, and meet back here when it’s dark? Alright?”  
The group nodded and split off into their natural groups, Monty and Harper, Murphy and Emori. Echo waited for him, but Bellamy shook his head. Instead he turned to Raven.

“What can you tell me?”  
Raven’s brow hardened. “For starters? That she’s dead.”  
Bellamy waved the comment away. “How far are we from where the tower would have been? How large is the patch we’ve landed in? How far are we from Becca’s bunker?”  
Raven huffed, but rattled off the information.  
“But you’re not going to find her,” Raven insisted, the harsh words softened by the sympathy in her voice. “After six years exposed to the elements there’d be nothing to find.”

Bellamy ignored her and turned to go, but he couldn’t keep her words from burrowing into his mind and painting hopeless pictures. They were the same images he’d seen in his dreams nearly every night, a wasted finger bone, her father’s watch, the barest scraps of her, frustratingly vague, neither denying nor confirming that there was something to look for. 

Bellamy heard the shuffle of dead leaves behind him and looked over his shoulder to see Echo following him just a step behind.  
“You said pairs,” she reminded him before he could protest. “So don’t even bother.”

Before Primfiya, Echo had been the last person Bellamy would have put his faith in. All that had changed on the ark. She’d been right: survival was a team sport. So instead of sending her away, Bellamy forged ahead, letting comfortable, if tense silence fill the space fill the space between them. 

Minutes, hours passed without a sign of another person. Bellamy could feel himself begin to tire, his feet aching and his eyes weary from squinting. The longer they walked, the more and more memories began to come back to him, flitting through his mind like ghosts. The fighting. The bloodshed. The struggle to survival. The delicate balance between war and peace. Still, haunted as he was, he couldn’t let himself give up. Not now that they were here, now that he could act instead of just spending hours staring at the earth, watching it burn, imagining how he could have done things differently, what he would do if he could just get his feet back on the ground.

“Bellamy.”  
Both Bellamy and Echo spun at his name, they hands automatically going to the hand-fashioned knives in their belts. Both paused in surprise when they saw they were face to face with a child.

“You’re Bellamy,” the girl said again. She was staring at them with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open, looking as shocked as he felt.  
“How are you alive?” Echo asked sharply, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
“And how do you know who I am?” Bellamy said.

“Clarke told me.” The little girl’s words were a knife to Bellamy’s heart, a white-hot blade of hope, piercing him right in the chest. It seared through him, obliterating everything else. The small part of him that wasn’t reeling was wondering how he hadn’t dropped dead from the sensation.

“Clarke told you,” Bellamy repeated. His voice sounded rough to his own ears. “Can you - can you tell me where she is? Can you show me?”

“Bellamy.” Echo this time, a warning in her tone. He ignored her.

The little girl frowned, but slowly nodded before turning and cutting a trail through the woods.  
“Bellamy, this is stupid,” Echo hissed, glancing warily around them.  
“It’s the only lead I have,” Bellamy answered as he set off after the little girl. “I’m taking it. Go back to the ship if you don’t want to come.”  
Echo scowled but didn’t protest again as she followed Bellamy through the trees.

“She told me lots about you,” the little girl said over her shoulder as they hiked. “Bellamy Blake. She said you came from the sky, and that you would again. She said you were the only reason she’d survived the ground. She thinks of you every day.”

Bellamy couldn’t have responded even if he wanted to. His thoughts were still reeling, she’s alive, she’s alive, and now, beyond that, she thought about me, too.

Suddenly, they stepped out of the trees and into a clearing. Bellamy recognized Becca’s workshop right away, though it looked smaller than he remembered. The little girl lead them straight up to the front door and inside without so much as a lock to open. But when they crossed the threshold, Bellamy stopped dead, Echo nearly walking into his back.

All over the walls were drawing of him. His mouth, his eyes, his mess of hair, a constellation of freckles in some spaces. Some were full body, some just of his face, some in profile. Other drawing were interspersed with them, like a two headed deer and a gorilla. He thought he recognized some other faces as well, Abby, Raven, and Wells, but it was his that dominated the walls.

“That’s how she recognized you,” Echo murmured, shattering the spell. “The kid.”  
Bellamy could only nod as he started walking again. He couldn’t look away, seeing new renderings everywhere his eyes rested. He followed the little girl down the stairs into a section of Becca’s lab they hadn’t bothered exploring in depth when they’d been there. There’d been no point. Raven had told them what had needed doing, and barring that, there hadn’t been time to wander the halls.

The little girl stopped a key pad and punched in the combination. A panel in the wall slid back, exposing a hallway similar to the one’s in Becca’s house. The small group filed in. Bellamy was surprised to see the hall was in relatively good condition. Musty, maybe, but intact and as luxe as everything else belonging to Becca had been. 

The little girl lead them through what Bellamy realized must have been a private bunker. He didn’t know why they hadn’t thought of it before. The woman had had a spare rocket just lying around in case she needed to go back to space; why wouldn’t she also have prepared a plan B for the nuclear apocalypse?

Finally, the little girl paused outside a door. She turned back to them, her hand on the knob, and Bellamy found himself filled with the same anticipation he’d felt earlier that day when they’d finally landed on earth again. In this moment, anything was possible.

“She’s not…well,” the little girl said, her eyes flitting up to meet Bellamy’s before darting away again. Bellamy’s heart plummeted as dread enveloped the hope that had burned in his chest all the way to the bunker. 

“What do you mean?” Bellamy asked.

“She sleeps,” the girl explained with a vague gesture. “She has a fever. She caught sick about three weeks ago, but hasn’t opened her eyes in four days. I’m sorry, Bellamy. She waited for you as long as she could.”

“Please.” Bellamy’s voice came out at a rasp. “Please, let me see her.”

The girl said nothing, but simply twisted the knob and let the door swing open.

Bellamy crossed the threshold, pausing only long enough to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. And once they did, he saw her, lying under a thin blanket on the bed, her chest rising ever so slightly, but rising none the less. She looked almost exactly as he remembered; the same pale skin, long fingers, full lips. Only her hair was changed, shorter now.

In seconds he was across the room, beside the bed. He hesitated only a moment before taking her hand in his, marvelling that after so many years she had survived and was here, that he had found her, that they were together again - unsurprisingly, with one of them hours away from death. Slowly, he lifted his other hand and brushed her hair back from her forehead, the blonde strands glinting in the low light. Another memory came back, the last time he’d touched her, just like this, right before they’d split up before leaving for the ark. A familiar resolve settled in Bellamy’s chest, replacing hope with purpose.

Gently, he placed her hand back on the bed and turned towards Echo.  
“We’re leaving,” he said. “We’ve got to get back to Raven and the others.”

He strode from the room, the other trailing behind him.  
“What are you going to do Bellamy?” Echo asked, striding up beside him. He met her grim stare with one of his own. 

“What I do best, “he said. “Keep Clarke alive.”


	2. Not Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Bellamy would literally move mountains to save Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance for the geography here. I know Becca had an island, and the Bellamy/Clarke had to drive there the first time, but honestly I found it confusing at best, so I'm sorry, and I hope it doesn't make/break the fic for you <3

It was Murphy who summed it up perfectly. “Six years and it’s like we never even left.”

Bellamy and Echo had returned to camp immediately, albeit late. Raven had railed at them for five minutes before they finally debriefed. Monty and Harper had managed to find a source of water and had cleared a small space for a garden near their ship. They’d brought what food they could down with them, but it wouldn’t last long.

Murphy and Emori had found some debris from what might have been a grounder village five years ago. They’d salvaged what they could and brought it back to the ship. A lean-to structure was already against the side of the ship, with wood piled under it to keep the rain off in hopes of a fire that night.

Raven had stayed to check over the ship and see if she could contact the bunker. Comms had been one of the first things she’d fixed on the ark, hoping that they’d be able to contact the bunker. Bellamy had worked with her and sat by them most days when there was time, trying to make contact, hopeful that he might hear his sister’s voice again, and worried that he would, because then he’d have to tell Abby he’d left Clarke on earth after she’d trusted him to keep her alive. 

They’d never made contact, though, and after a while, Raven stopped trying.  
“They obviously can’t reach us,” she’d said with a frustrated scowl. “We’ll see what the problem is when we get there.” Raven still came by occasionally, but Bellamy was the one who spent day after day by the radios. Bellamy didn’t care, as long as there was someone there to to listen. 

Bellamy and Echo explained last what had happened, and were met with stares of disbelief.  
“I can’t believe she’s alive,” Monty said quietly into the silence.  
“Somehow I’m not surprised it would take more than Primfiya to kill Wanheda,” Emori said.  
“Apparently all it takes is an illness,” Bellamy said, his tone laced with bitterness. “When you’re busy looking for fire from the sky, you don’t notice disease in your drink.”  
“What do you suggest,” Raven asked, arms crossed. Bellamy knew what she’d meant: they’d come to the ground with a plan. Abandoning it meant abandoning survival. 

He knew what Clarke would have done. She would have left him. They all would have. In the face of death, emotional ties would get you killed every time. Clarke knew that, just like she’d known he was the only one of them who would choose death every time if it meant saving someone else. She’d warned him to use his head as well as his heart. The last time he had, he’d left her on earth to die. 

But now there was a second chance.

“I know I can’t ask you to drop everything and help,” Bellamy said, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “But there’s only one person who can help Clarke.”

“We don’t even know if they’re alive,” Harper said. “It doesn’t look promising. None of us found any camps.”

“That doesn’t mean much,” Bellamy insisted. “Could be they’ve decided to stay in the bunker. Maybe they haven’t spread out this far. Maybe the door’s jammed.”

“Maybe they all came out and died of radiation poisoning,” Murphy said. “We don’t know.”

“But we have to check anyway,” Bellamy said. “That’s always been part of the plan. I’m going. No one has to come if they don’t want to. I’m leaving at dawn.”

No one reached out to stop him as he strode to the woodpile to throw more kindling on the fire. No one protested. When you lived together for five years, it became impossible to hide things, and by now they all knew there was no point in trying to persuade him to another plan. Besides, this was supposed to be a fresh start, one where no one was lost or left behind.

At dawn, Bellamy shouldered a make shift bag filled with the barest - and if he was being truly honest, slightly fewer than were rightly his - rations for his trip. He paused at the edge of their little clearing, waiting a moment. Seconds later Echo appeared from the ship, Harper behind her. They nodded a greeting and the trio set off into the trees without another word, surrounded by the hush of morning. They stopped once around midday to rest a while and eat. It would be at least another day’s walking to get to where Raven had said the bunker would be.

“Have you thought that this might be an opportunity to say goodbye?”  
Bellamy turned to Echo. Her question hurt, but he knew she didn’t mean any maliciousness by it.  
“I left her for dead once,” he said, “And I nearly went insane imagining what could have happened if I’d tried. If she dies now, and I do nothing, it’s going to be a lot more permanent than six years in space. And if, at the end of it all, she does die, this is the goodbye she would want.”

Echo simply nodded. She of all people could understand his loyalty to Clarke. But Bellamy refused to let Echo’s question burrow into his head. It would be too much, for her survive the past six year, to face down Primfiya and live, to pump a dead girl’s blood through her own body, to hollow out the mountain, to destroy a grounder army, only to die days before he found her again. The universe, he thought, owed him more than that.

The first day was uneventful, as was the first night. Bellamy lay awake for a long while, watching the stars, remembering stories of a chariot that pulled the night sky across the world like a mother tucking in her child. He’d imagined seeing Clarke again one way or another, burying any remains he could find if she was dead, reciting an apology he’d rehearsed a thousand times to her if she was alive. He’d never imagined he’d find her in some in between state, that he’d miss her by days. 

They rose at dawn the next morning, packing what little they had and setting off without much said between them. They weren’t far now, and around midday they began to actively scan for the broken remains of what had once been Polis. It was late afternoon by the time Harper shouted, having spotted a small pile of burnt rocks in heap. It was indistinguishable as a building, but Bellamy and Echo soon discovered other, similar structures, too patterned to be random destruction. Minutes later, they found it.

“Oh.” The sound escaped Harper’s lips ahead of her thoughts, at once surprised and dismayed.

An enormous pile of rocks sat in the middle of the smaller piles like a jealous dragon minding its horde. Bellamy had been searching for the warped but imposing structure of the tower; he hadn’t been expecting the degree of destruction that greeted them, keeping them out and the rest of their people in. Hopelessness crashed in on Bellamy as Echo’s question came back to him. Maybe that was all he was owed: a chance to say goodbye while there was a possibility she could still hear him.

Echo barked a short, dry laugh, her eyes sparkling at the challenge. “It wouldn’t be Clarke if it wasn’t impossible.”

Bellamy’s lips twisted into a wry smile. That much was true. And they’d faced worse odds. He didn’t know how long Clarke had, but hopefully if she’d waited this long, she could hold on a little longer.

“Alright then,” Bellamy said, dropping his pack to his feet. “Lets get our people back.”


	3. Sisyphus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be a lot longer, but I realized I was at the end when I was at the end.

It took them four days to move the rubble enough to access the hatch.

Bellamy had felt the force of the death wave when it had closed in on them as they left for the ark. It had nearly been enough to ground them, microwaving them inside the ship.

On earth, it had struck TonDc with enough might to level the city. Upon exploring the ruins further, they’d realized a lot of the rubble had fallen to the wayside of the original foundation; the bunker and its’ door were covered, but not by nearly as much debris as they’d originally assumed.

While they’d worked, Bellamy had become more and more frantic. His sister had lived under the floor of the ark for sixteen years. If Bellamy had any doubts about how the universe felt about them, he was acutely aware now that Octavia had been trapped for another six. 

He’d wanted to scream every time they’d moved chunk of concrete, only to have smaller boulders and silt rain down from the bigger heap. He felt like Sisyphus, cursed to forever dig at the rocks and dig at the rocks and dig at the rocks, even as more clattered down the mound to fill the hole. It seemed like a nightmare fairy tale, with him doomed to complete an impossible task to try and save the people he cared about.

They’d finally reached the bottom near the end of day three. Bellamy had wanted to keep going, his strength renewed by success, but Harper and Echo had convinced him they’d be in better shape to finish clearing the hatch the next day. That night he’d dreamed he’d been buried alive in a glass coffin and dirt and rocks pressed in from all sides. Cracks appeared in the glass and silt trickled in. No one heard him screaming.

Day four they’d cleared the hatch the rest of the way.

“Now what?” Harper had asked. Bellamy had shrugged and tried the key pad. Of course it didn’t work. They would have changed it to keep the people left behind out. Any surveillance cameras that had been outside had been crushed by the falling tower. Finally, led by Echo, they banged on the door until their voices were hoarse and their arms ached.

“Any ideas?”

Every muscle in Bellamy’s body ached as he turned to Echo. “We have to get in. I need to know my sister’s ok. And Abby’s the only one who can help Clarke.”

“So we stay.” Harper struggled into an upright position and fruitlessly dusted off her shirt. “I’ll go collect some water, Echo, want to start tonight’s fire?” She gently laid a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder. “We’ll get in, or they’ll come out. It’ll be ok.”

Bellamy watched them go, feeling dismayed. He wasn’t a waiter, though god knew he’d had enough practice in the past six years. He’d let it make him soft. He hadn’t thought to search for the rover or to try and rig radios like before. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to. This was what Clarke had meant, some of her last words to him: to use his head as well as his heart. Now her life was in danger and he’d done the exact opposite.  
That night, they were awoken by the sound of metal screaming against metal. Light spilled out across their make shift campground as the three of them scrambled for their homemade weapons.

“The hatch is clear, Commander,” came a voice. “Affirmative. Making contact. Standby.”

Bellamy squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He could just barely make out two silhouettes where they’d cleared the rubble away from the bunker. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or hallucinating until one of the figures reached out to them.

“Bellamy Blake?”

“I want to see my sister.” Brain half addled, Bellamy said the first thing that came to mind, the thing he wanted most: some reassurance that not everything had gone straight to hell.

“In time,” the figure said. “Come with us. You must be…in need of a lot of things.”

Relief flooded Bellamy as half his fear vanished. He hadn’t realized how worried he’d been about her until she’d been confirmed to be alive. “Octavia is still the commander, isn’t she?” 

“She is,” the figure said, “All in due time. Come in.”

It was all the encouragement Bellamy needed. He felt the tension in him relax as his plan started moving again. This was what he was good at: making things happen. Executing orders, in this case his own. Getting things done. Keeping Clarke alive. 

Bellamy let the familiarity of the bunker wash over him as the three of them descended into it. It reminded him a lot of the ark. It had the first time he’d been there as well, back when he’d already picked a room to share with Monty, before he’d let Clarke talk him into an insane plan to return to the sky. 

The guards, who, if Bellamy had to guess, were each from different krus, lead the three of them to a small dining room. Food had already been laid out, and Bellamy felt his mouth begin to water as the smell of it washed over him. He hadn’t been inside Mount Weather like Clarke and the others had, but this set up reminded him of the stories Monty and Jasper had told and the people he’d seen when he’d been there. 

“The commander will be with you shortly,” the guard said. “Until then, please, make yourselves comfortable.”

The guards withdrew, but none of them missed the audible click of a lock sliding into place.

“Anyone else a little concerned here?” Echo asked, but Bellamy noticed her eyes hadn’t left the table where the food sat.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have major Mount Weather vibes,” Harper admitted, echoing Bellamy’s earlier thoughts. “It’s weird no one we know came to see us.”

“It’s not a problem until it’s a problem,” Bellamy cautioned. “Right now, we’ve accomplished our first goal. We’ll wait for Octavia and sort it out.”

Still, despite the way they stared at the food, none of them ate so much as a crumb.

It could have been minutes. To Bellamy it felt like hours until the door clicked open again.

And there was Octavia. She seemed different. Taller, a little softer than she had been when he’d left. Her long, dark hair was the same, but her clothes seemed…newer. Cleaner. She looked good. Healthy. Alive.

Octavia stood in the doorway, sizing up Bellamy the same way he’d done to her. Her lips trembled ever so slightly, the way he knew they did when she was on the verge of tears.

“Hello, big brother.” And just like that, it was like the past six years hadn’t passed at all. They crossed the room in two quick strides and Bellamy enveloped O in a bear hug for the first time since they’d left the ark the first time. 

“I was shocked when those radios crackled to life for the first time in six years,” Octavia muttered into his shoulder as she hugged him back. “I should have known you would never leave me under the ground.”

“We have a lot of catching up to do,” Bellamy told her as they stepped apart. “Radios?”

“Raven,” Octavia said by way of explanation, leading him back to the table. “Not sure what she did. Honestly, we haven’t even had those radios out since they were knocked out by Primfiya. We just never got rid of them. Figured every satellite had gone the same way. Good thing we didn’t repurpose them. And why am I not surprised that it all comes down to Clarke?”

Bellamy worked to keep his expression neutral. “It doesn’t,” he said as he piled his plate with food. “I was looking for remains to bury. Instead I found her mostly alive. If I’d known you were stuck underground, I would have come here first.”

“Uh huh,” Octavia said in a way that told Bellamy she did not in the least believe him. “Well I got the briefest overview from Raven on that. The radios work, but not that well. Abby should be here any minute.”

Bellamy ducked his head to hide his relief. Even after six years Octavia could read him like an open book. She knew why he’d come. He loved his sister, but the truth was that, even back before Primfiya, she didn’t need him the way she had when they were on the ark. She needed him even less now after leading for six years. He’d meant what he’d said about her being stuck, and he had wanted to see her, but Clarke was his priority. 

While they waited, Octavia told them how the past six years had been underground. Despite their tumultuous relationship above ground, in the bunker, all the krus had gotten along much better. They’d relied on each other to survive, and those that had died had done so of natural causes. No one had heard them banging on the door to be let in, but since Raven’t radio three days prior, Octavia had instructed the guard to try and open the door at the change of every shift.  
“I knew that door would eventually open,” Octavia said, but a tremor in her voice told Bellamy she wasn’t as sure as she’d pretended. “And I’d hoped it’d be you on the other side, Bell, but we had to be sure. Sorry about the not so great welcome.”

“You really think grounders survived Primfiya?” Harper asked. “That they would come looking for the bunker?”

“Clarke did,” Echo pointed out. “As did that girl who was with her.”

Octavia’s lips had just parted, a flood of questions no doubt on their way, when the door opened and Abby and Marcus stepped inside. Bellamy shot Octavia a questioning look, and she shook her head just slightly. It was up to him then to tell Abby what had happened to Clarke. _Take care of each other._ That’s what she’d said before they’d left. Bellamy steeled himself. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d let someone down. He would just have to make it right.

He stood and face them, but the words on his lips died when Abby embraced him the same as Octavia had minutes earlier. Stunned, he tentatively hugged Abby back.

“It is such a relief to see you again,” Abby said. “All of you.”

“I can’t believe the ark was still survivable,” Marcus chimed in. “It was so incredibly reckless of you. Please tell me this isn’t all of you that’s left?”

Bellamy shook his head, allowing a small smile. “Raven, Monty, Murphy, and Emori as well,” he said.

“But… Clarke?” The relief on Abby’s face was abruptly snuffed out. Octavia leaned forward in her seat, sensing that it was time for their side of the past six years.

“You should sit down,” he said, pulling out a chair for Abby.

The three of them sat and, after the briefest moment of hesitation to gather his thoughts, Bellamy told them. 

How it had been Clarke’s idea to go to the ark. How the radios had cut out before anyone had really had a chance to say goodbye. How, in redesigning the ship to take 8 people, the circuitry had shorted, blowing the comms. How Clarke had gone one way to re-establish them while he’d gone another to rescue Monty. How they’d come back but she hadn’t. How they’d waited as long as they could before they - before he’d - shut the door and they’d returned to the ark. How they’d clung to survival with their fingertips, sleeping a lot in those first few days, conserving their strength while preparing the hydroponic garden. How the past six years and then some had been dedicated to repairing the ship for re entry, and they’d had to cannbalize the ark for the pieces. And finally, how, after making it back to earth, Bellamy had searched for some remains to put to rest, knowing there might not be anything to find, and, by some half-miracle, had found Clarke instead.

“But she’s alive?” Abby said. “The serum worked?” Hope flickered in her eyes, and Bellamy wondered how to answer her.

“She’s alive, but comatose, I think,” Bellamy said. “Madi, the girl who found us, said that Clarke had been sick for some time before now. But none of us has the training to help her. Just you.”

“Let’s go.” Abby was on her feet in an instant. Marcus stood up beside her, putting a hand on her arm. She immediately shook him off.

“You should wait until it’s light out,” he said, unruffled by her rebuff. “No one’s been outside for six years. You have no idea what it’s like out there now.”

“I’m aware of the facts, Marcus.” Abby’s voice was frigid. “You made sure of that. I am going to go save my daughter’s life, and I’m going now.”

“Abby,” Bellamy said, “He’s right.” As much as Bellamy wanted to go with Abby right then, even he knew they wouldn’t get very far, not in this new land, and not after the ordeal he, Harper and Echo had gone through over the past four days. “First light, I swear.”

Abby said nothing for a moment, then nodded. “First light.”

She swept from the room without another word, and Marcus watched her go.

“Can you see about getting them beds, Kane?” Octavia’s voice snapped Marcus out of whatever thoughts he’d been trapped in, and he nodded, following Abby out the door. Once the door was shut, Echo abruptly stood, startling them.

“Octavia.” To Bellamy’s surprise, Echo bowed her head deferentially to his sister, a move he’d never seen her perform for anyone but Roan. 

“The last time we spoke, you banished me from the krus, effectively sentencing me to death.” Echo kept her eyes training on the floor. “I ask now that you revoke your sentence. I would like to come home.”

Bellamy saw Octavia raise an eyebrow at the choice before her. They were not the people they’d been six years ago when they’d had to survive. Things were different now. They could be different now.

“Echo.” She looked up at her name. “For honouring the last conclave and my wishes as victor in aiding my brother and the rest of our people in survival on the ark, I hearby revoke your banishment. Your people welcome you with open arms but a wary heart. Honour their spirit better than you did before.”

“I swear I will,” Echo said. Bellamy could see tears glittering in her eyes, but not one spilled over. “Thank you.”

Octavia only nodded. “And now, sleep. You’ve got quite the journey in the morning.”

They filed out of the room to find their beds, but Octavia’s hand on Bellamy’s arm held him back briefly. “You’ll come back after all of this? I miss my big brother.”

“Of course, O,” Bellamy said, pulling her in for one more hug. “I missed you so much. And it’s different out there this time. We can do more than survive. This time we can live.”


	4. Semi-Charmed Kind of Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider yourselves warned I apologize for nothing (just know that I love you and I'm a slut for feedback)

As promised, Abby was waiting for them at dawn, packed and at the hatch door long before the rest of them were there. As Bellamy looked at her face, he wondered if she’d slept at all that night. He knew he hadn’t the night before they’d planned to finally return to earth.

Octavia, Marcus, and Harper, who’d chosen to stay behind, came to see them off.

“Better get going,” Octavia said after another brief hug. “We’re planning to tell everyone that the hatch was cleared last night. I expect there’ll be a swarm of people who want to get back above ground.”

Bellamy looked pointedly at the spot Harper’s missing pack should be.

“I’m going to stay and help organize them,” she said. “We’ve already radio’d back to the others and they’re packing up to come here. Monty thinks it’s a good place for a settlement, so once they’ve rested up, we’re going to start rebuilding.”

“We hope you and Clarke will come back to help,” Marcus said, resting a hand on Bellamy’s arm. He knew, Bellamy remembered dully. It had been over six years, but Bellamy could still recall the sting of Clarke’s overheard confession to her mother and Kane’s knowing look. That had been it for him: the moment that he realized how deep in he was. Maybe how deep he’d always been without knowing it. He’d hoped it would fade when he realized he’d never be Clarke’s choice, and it hadn’t. And then, when they’d returned to the ark, despite everything, he’d hoped the five years would be enough to put her memory to rest. And when he’d stared out the window every day, praying for those radios to crackle to life while he watched the world burn, praying that stupid serum and her arrogance would be enough to keep her alive, he’d known there would be no getting over Clarke until he knew one way or the other what had happened to her.

“Let’s go,” Abby said sharply, dragging Bellamy back to the matter at hand. Abby turned without so much as a goodbye and climbed up through the hatch, leaving them to follow. 

“Please-” Marcus paused, as though unsure if he should continue. “Please look out for her. She’s never forgiven me for keeping her here. For choosing her life over the lives of our people. It was the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. She won’t let me look after her, so please.”

Bellamy knew the look that Kane wore now. It was the same look he got on his face whenever Clarke landed herself in yet another life threatening situation. Desperation. Concern. Love.

“I will,” Echo said before Bellamy answered, surprising him. “I swear she will be safe.”

Marcus seemed to consider Echo for a moment, as though weighing the worth of her oath in his mind, before giving a short nod. In his periphery, he saw Octavia smile. 

“May we meet again,” Bellamy said, meeting both Octavia and Marcus’ eyes before hauling himself through the hatch. 

“We will,” came Octavia’s reply behind him. 

Despite her abrupt exit, Abby hadn’t gone far from the hatch, and Bellamy came up short when he saw her face. Clearly, she’d heard everything Marcus had asked them to do.

In the past he would have turned away from her and give her a private moment to check her feelings. It was what they’d all done, believing, even in the face of death, that soldiering forth meant being strong, and that it was something you had to do alone. There was no room for weakness on the ground.

But emotions didn’t make you weak. They made you human.

“Surviving a radiation death wave underground for six years after falling out of the sky,” Bellamy said, resting a comforting hand on Abby’s arm. “You don’t have to forgive him, but it’s a good time for new beginnings.”

For a moment, he thought Abby would shake him off, straighten her back, and tell him it was none of his business.

Her back did stiffen, but after a moment, her shoulders dropped and she looked away. “I don’t know how,” she admitted. 

“Accepting that you deserved to live, too, might help,” he suggested gently. It was a process he’d gone through himself on the ark. Between him and Clarke, he’d never have guessed she’d be the one left behind. “And because of it, you can save Clarke.”

It was something he wanted, something he needed to do, but he knew it would mean as much, if not more to her mother. 

“We’d better get going then,” Echo said, jerking her head in the direction of the woods. Both Abby and Bellamy nodded and began walking.

The trip was much the same as last time, only this time Bellamy’s thoughts were more intrusive - and more desperate. _She’s already dead, and you missed your chance to say goodbye. You took too long and now she’ll never recover. She’s braindead and the best you can give her is a funeral. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead._

On and on it went, and at night he dreamed that she dangled from the edge of a cliff, screaming for him, but he couldn’t move fast enough to reach her. Just as he’d get to her, her fingers would slip, and she’d fall. 

Finally, they made the clearing of Becca’s bunker. He halted their party.

“She doesn’t look so good,” Bellamy said, finding himself echoing the same warning Madi had given him nearly a week ago. 

“I’m sure I’ve seen worse,” was all Abby said. Bellamy lead the way, stopping once more when the door to the residential half slid open.

“Madi?” Bellamy called. “It’s us. We’re back, and we brought help.”

The little girl appeared around the corner, her eyes alighting on Abby instantly, assessing the stranger.

“You look like her,” Madi said finally, and a muffled sob broke from Abby’s chest.

“Take me to her?” It was almost the exact same plea Bellamy had made himself. Madi nodded, and the two took off down the hallway. He watched them go, aching to follow, knowing he shouldn’t. With any luck, Abby would be able to revive Clarke within an hour or so, and as much as he wanted her to live, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be there for that. What would he even say? _’I’m sorry I left you behind’? ‘I never should have closed the door’? ‘It should have been me that was left behind’? ‘I thought about you every day, I prayed to every god and every star that you were still alive’? ’I love you. I love you. I love you’?’_ Would any of that even matter?

“I’m going to wash up and prepare some food,” Echo said, tousling her hair. “Might as well take advantage while we’re here.”

Bellamy just nodded and watched her go, still unsure what to do himself.

In the end, he settled for exploring. He wandered the short halls for minutes, hours, unsure of the time and not really caring where he was going until he found the library. It wasn’t too big, but the walls were lined with hundreds of books, with a fireplace on the opposite wall and a leather chair that looked perfect for curling up in and reading. He thought about it, but immediately dismissed the thought, too jittery to focus. Instead he walked around the walls, letting his fingers trail over the dusty spines, reading their titles until he heard the door open behind him.

Madi stood there, solemn as ever. Hope jolted through his chest.

“Abby’s still with her,” Madi said, “But I thought - I have something you’d maybe want to hear.”

She left without waiting to see if he was following, but he did anyway. Was she talking in her sleep? Searching for him in her dreams the way he searched for her?

But instead of taking him to Clarke, Madi lead him up a set of stairs to an office. It was as pristine as the rest of the bunker, save for what looked like a radio on the desk.

“Did you ever hear her,” Madi asked, gesturing to the radio.

“Hear her?” Bellamy repeated.

“She tried, every day,” Madi said, gesturing more at the radio. “To talk to you? Up there?” She frowned, frustration written on her brow. She didn’t know the details of what Clarke had actually been doing, and she didn’t have the words to explain it if she did. But Bellamy, suddenly, horribly, understood. He’d waited every day to hear her. And she’d tried every day to reach them. And something in their instruments had been off. Another piece of him shattered at the idea. All that time…

“But she kept them,” Madi said, sensing his despair. “In case she was gone when you got here. Just to be safe.”

“She kept them,” Bellamy said, looking back to the radio. Madi nodded. “Can you…?” He gestured to the radio, and Madi nodded again and headed over, gently twisting the dials. Finally, she pressed a button, and Clarke’s voice echoed throughout the small room.

_“This is Clarke Griffen of Skai Kru. It’s been three days since Primfiya: a second wave of radiation that swept the earth, one hundred years after the original nuclear apocalypse. It was caused by the meltdown of several nuclear power plants that remained on the earth’s surface. My name is Clarke Griffen, and I should be dead.”_

Bellamy’s knees gave out and he sank onto the leather couch adjacent to the desk. He’d thought he’d remembered her voice, but it was nothing compared to the real thing, even a recording. 

_“Raven, Monty,…Bellamy. If you can hear me, I’m alive,” the recording continued. “You did the right thing. I hope I made it on time. I hope you’re up there, alive. May we meet again.”_ A brief pause, then: _“Day four. It’s Clarke. I’m still recovering from the effects of radiation poisoning. The night blood serum worked, but it’s taking me a while to fully heal. Not that that matters much if I don’t do something about food and water… I have enough for a few days, but beyond that… I won’t be making trips to a lake any time soon…:_

On and on they went, one blending into the next. Bellamy listened numbly as Clarke relayed how she’d discovered this part of Becca’s lab, how she’d managed to keep from going crazy by reading most of the books in Becca’s library when she wasn’t sketching or trying to venture outside. Madi had sat down beside him to listen as well and was now lying with her head on his knee, dozing. 

They were on day 462 when Abby found them. She looked toward the radio, as overwhelmed as Bellamy had been when he’d first heard Clarke’s messages. Then she crossed the room and pressed a button, stopping them mid-message.

Bellamy didn’t move, afraid to so much as twitch, scared to read too much into Abby’s solemn expression, yet unable to keep the words he would use to say goodbye from screaming around his head, piling up on one another.

“Well?”

“She’s stable,” Abby said, leaning against the desk. “Whatever fever she had has passed, and I managed to get some fluids into her, which I think helped.”

“So what the diagnosis,” Bellamy asked. Abby just shrugged.

“There isn’t one,” Abby finally said. “She could wake up any time.”

“Minutes? Hours?” Bellamy pressed. He could feel his heart beginning to pound, as if it could beat Abby’s words into submission and keep them from being true. 

“Days,” Abby said, nodding. “Months. Anything’s possible. It depends on her. She’ll wake up when she’s healed. But…we have to accept that, after everything that’s happened, that day might never come. The trauma might have been too much.”

“She might never wake up,” Bellamy repeated. Nothing physically wrong with her. Nothing to fight, nothing to do, nothing to fix. 

After all this time, he’d found Clarke alive, and now it might be for nothing. Echoes words drifted back to him, like smoke on the wind, a shadow of what had been: _Have you thought that this might be an opportunity to say goodbye?_

Maybe it was. Maybe it really was time to say goodbye.


	5. Glass Coffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comfort chapter

“It doesn’t have to be today.”

Bellamy started and looked down the hall to where Echo was watching him from the kitchenette.

“It does,” Bellamy said, flexing his fingers. “Because there might not be tomorrow.”

Echo just shrugged. “Been that way for the past six years or so,” she said.

She was right, but the only thing that was guaranteed was right now. He might wake up and she would be gone, and all he’d have would be recordings and the memory of standing outside her door, afraid that when he left it would be for the last time. But he suspected Echo knew that, too, and was why she’d said anything at all.

Without giving his mind another opportunity to psych him out, Bellamy twisted the knob on Clarke’s door and crossed the threshold, letting it shut behind him.

She looked the same as ever, peaceful in a way she hadn’t been the last time he’d seen her. He remembered telling her to rest, but doubted she ever truly had. In a way, he could understand: how could she sleep when she had to devote every minute to keeping them all alive?

Maybe that’s what this was. Making up for lost time. And if so, could he really blame her?

So he crossed the room and sat at the chair at her bedside, careful to be quiet, as if noise would be enough to wake her. He sat there for a moment, wondering how to begin, if he should take her hand, if that would make it harder.

“I thought about you every day,” he finally said, making himself look at her, making himself accept the reality of the situation. “I would look out the window, and I would imagine what it would have been like to be you, or how things would be different if I’d gone with you, if Monty hadn’t passed out, if I’d gone instead. I’d imagine that that stupid night blood serum worked and that you had survived and were waiting for us to come back. I’d imagine finding your body and placing you beside Wells, if there was anything to even find. I’d think about what to do first and how to survive once we came back to earth. I’d try to imagine a world without you in it.”

“We were dropped on an unforgiving planet, and you’ve fought so hard to beat it.” Bellamy reached out and took Clarke’s hand in his, as though even in unconsciousness, she could sense his earnestness. “I understand if you need to go. I wish I’d gotten here sooner. I wish things had been different. I wish…I knew how I felt about you when it would still matter. So, in case you never wake up, Clarke…thank you.” His next words burned on the way out. “In peace, may you leave the shore. In love, may you find the next. Safe journey on your travels, until your final journey to the ground.”

He leaned back in the chair but didn’t let go of her hand, his thumb rubbing small circles on her skin. If this had been fairytale, his words would have been magic and she would have woken up when he’d said his goodbye. Wasn’t that how the saying went? If he let her go, if it was meant to be, wouldn’t she come back?

Maybe the truth of it was that he was no Prince Charming. Maybe it wasn’t him she would wake up for. Maybe, no matter how much he wanted her, he wasn’t the one she wanted back. 

_Once upon a time…_ The phrase drifted through Bellamy’s head, unbidden, a memory of a story from Octavia’s childhood. Giving her hand a squeeze, Bellamy stood up and followed the memory of those words to Becca’s library. He scanned the titles for a moment before he found what he’d been looking for: a volume of fairy-tales he’d passed over the day before.

He flipped through the index, his heart giving a painful lurch when he found the story he was looking for. Keeping the page open, he returned to Clarke’s room. He glanced at her face, then back at the story. She looked so much like the illustration of the sleeping princess from the story, all blonde hair and serene expression. 

“Once upon a time,” Bellamy began, “In a kingdom far, far away, a king and queen longed for a child. They tried for many years, and had nearly given up hope, when at last a child was born, a baby girl. They named her Aurora.”

And so it went. 

Echo returned to the site of their dropship days later to help with rebuilding while Bellamy elected to stay behind. With their people free from the bunker and their original camp doing well, he felt his obligation to lead was past. They had Octavia and Raven for that. 

So he stayed with Clarke, Madi, and Abby. Every day, he would go to her room and read to her. And everyday, he would brace himself to leave, knowing it might be for the last time. When he finished the book of fairy tales, he moved on to greek myths, and then plays. All the while, he couldn’t ignore the way she seemed to shrink, he body wasting away in bed from weeks, then months of inactivity, until Bellamy half wished himself that she would go, sure that whatever was waiting for her would be better than waking up to just him. 

But he wouldn’t go until she did, so he stayed and read, and hoped one day it would be enough to wake her up.


	6. Sleeping Beauty Awakes

“Bellamy?”

Bellamy half-woke up at the sound of his name, but mostly ended up resettling his head on his arms where he’d fallen asleep beside Clarke’s bed. It was where he spent most of his nights these days. The first two times had been an accident, but when no one said anything, he decided there was no sense in pretending he wanted to be somewhere else, and so dragged one of the ridiculously plush reclining chairs from the library into Clarke’s room.

Most nights, he’d finish reading to Clarke and fall asleep in the chair. Other nights, like this one, after a particularly long day, he’d pass out in the middle of it all, the book somewhere on the floor or the bottom of the bed, his head cradled in his arms on the side of her mattress.

“Bellamy.”   
That brought him wide awake. It wasn’t just the rough quality of the voice, raw with fear and hope. It was _her_ voice. He hesitated for the barest fraction of a second, terrified that he would wake up and see her ghost at the head of the bed, finally ready to move on, stopping only long enough to tell him he should, too. For all his goodbye had been worth three months ago, he’d let himself slip into a false sense of security, sure that as long as she was still breathing, there was hope.

Slowly, he lifted his head, and went rigid when their eyes finally met.

It was the same electric shock it had been all those years ago, the first time he’d laid eyes on her in the dropship. The first time they had really _seen_ each other. On the ark, Clarke had been someone to avoid and he had been beneath her notice. On the ground, they were the only person the other could trust, the only person who truly saw the other. 

And now, it was like the past six years were nothing.

“Clarke.” Bellamy’s own voice was ragged with relief and joy. “Clarke.”

“Am I dead?”

That stopped him. It was probably the only question that could have.

“Were the stories true then?” she continued as she reached across the bed to take his hand. “Do the people we love really…do they really come to bring us to…wherever?”

Bellamy nearly stopped breathing, telling himself not to put too much stock in what she said right now, forcing himself to clamp down on his heart before it suffocated him to death with it’s frantic pounding at her words.

“You’re not dead, Clarke,” Bellamy said, giving her hand a squeeze. “You were just…out for a while. Probably catching up on all that sleep you missed during those last few months before the death wave. You were sick, remember? You slipped into a coma before we came back down. I…we’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”  
“What…what happened to me?” He could see more of herself waking up, the logical part of her mind, the part that complimented him so well, kicking into gear, assessing her surroundings, locking down that emotional side of her that had woken up first.

“I’ll get Abby,” Bellamy said, standing abruptly and pulling his hand from hers. “She’ll be able to explain it better, and anyway, she’ll want to know you’ve woken up.”

In two swift strides, Bellamy left Clarke’s room to find her mother. He had to, because he knew if he stayed it would all come out, everything: how he’d realized his feelings had begun to change after Mount Weather; how he’d tried not to want her by wanting someone else; how he’d thought of her every day; how happy, no, utterly blissed out that he’d come back and she’d still been there; how overwhelmingly ecstatic he was that she’d woken up.

It would be too much for her, too soon, and even if it wasn’t, he couldn’t be sure anything had really changed. Sure, less than halfway through her recorded transmissions she’d started addressing them to him directly, and maybe she’d drawn his face every day until they’d come back, but it didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Abby was with Madi in Becca’s lab, working on whatever research she’d latched onto to distract herself from why she was really waiting around Becca’s lab. They both looked up when he entered.

“Clarke’s awake,” he said. For a moment, no one moved. Then Abby was sprinting past him, abandoning whatever she’d been reading. 

Inside, Bellamy was reeling. Did he go to her? Did he give her space? Did he finally, finally tell her how he felt? Did he step back into his role? Would she want to step back into hers? Would she even care? Had he spent the past six years pining after someone who would never want him back? Would there - could there - be time for that now?

It was too much. 

Bellamy spun on his heel and marched past the sketches of his face, out into the light rain to check the traps for food. It was a minor chore Madi usually did, but he needed the distraction right now. He let his thoughts run wild as he went, knowing they’d eventually burn themselves out as he came to his own conclusions. At the end of the day, nothing had really changed. And he once again found himself wanting her, even if he might not want him back. It was something he’d have to live with until something changed.

It was hours later when Bellamy finally returned to Becca’s base with four rabbits in tow. He went to the kitchen to freeze them and stopped dead in the doorway when he saw Abby at the little island, cupping a warm mug of tea.

“She’s waiting for you,” Abby said as she stood and held her hands out for the rabbits.

“She’s not sleeping?” Bellamy said, reluctantly handing them over. “It’s late.”

“I think she’s had enough sleep for now,” Abby said. If her gentle smile was meant to be reassuring, it wasn’t. “Go on, I’ll take care of these.”  
Steeling himself, Bellamy turned and went back down the hall to Clarke’s room. He paused barely long enough to knock, then let himself in. If he waited too long, he knew he’d just leave and pretend he’d missed her.

Clarke was looking much more like herself. She was propped up in bed with a sketch pad and coloured pencils on the blanket beside her. She was still too thin from the months of liquid diet, but there was colour in her cheeks now, and that intelligent sparkle that had gotten his attention in the first place.

She looked up when he came in, and Bellamy didn’t think he imagined that she stopped breathing for a moment. 

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” she said softly as she set the sketch pad down. From where he stood, Bellamy could see she’d drawn a girl sitting in a window, her long hair cascading down the brick wall outside. He recognized the scene from one of the stories he’d read her.

“All those transmissions,” Clarke continued, “Never answered. I thought I was too late. I had nightmares-” She broke off with a quick shake of her head. 

“Me, too,” Bellamy whispered. And then a part of the wall he’d spent the past hours forming, the dam that was supposed to keep everything back and inside, broke. “I never should have left you here,” he said, crossing to the side of her bed. “I kept expecting you to come running in at the last second. I can’t stop thinking about that moment. I never should have let you go alone.”

“And then we’d both be dead,” Clarke said, as usual cutting right through his emotional response with a line of logic. “Instead of here, together. I wanted you to go, Bellamy. I told you not to wait for me, but I guess…that transmission didn’t get through, either.”

Some of the tension eased out of Bellamy, and he sank down onto the side of her bed. So much had gone wrong that day, and ended the best it could have for the two of them. Maybe that was what would always be best for the both of them: being apart.

But he couldn’t believe that. Not after everything that happened. They’d both survived the literal end of the world, just to find the other again. 

“Bellamy.” For the second time that day, he looked up at the sound of his name. Clarke’s eyes darted across his face, taking in every detail. “Thank you, for not giving up on me.” Her lips quirked. “For keeping me alive.”

A memory stirred, the last time she’d said those words, right after they’d defeated the A.I, ALIE. His comment then had been flippant, sarcastic, and said to her back as she’d flung herself head first into yet another life-threatening situation, only to find a sword to her throat literal seconds later: _“You don’t make it easy.”_

It hadn’t been what he’d wanted to say, but it had been the right thing to say then. Now there was time for something else. Now there was time for more.

He looked up and met her beautiful blue eyes. “I will always keep you alive, Clarke,” he said. “I love you.” He’d kept the words inside so long, they burned a little on the way out, but he wasn’t afraid to tell her anymore. It was the barest, plainest truth.

“I thought, after five years, things would change,” Clarke admitted. She hadn’t looked away, and he could see tears welling up, a flush spreading across her cheeks. “I thought you wouldn’t care anymore, and then, when you'd didn’t come back for me after five years had passed, I thought I was right. I thought I’d be stranded on earth, and that I’d die here missing you. I never thought I’d ever hear you say those words.” She paused. “I never thought I’d get to say them back.”

Bellamy swore his heart stopped. “Seriously?”

“I love you, too.” 

He reached out, brushing the hair out of her face just like he had the last time he’d touched her and leaned in, hesitating at the last moment, her breath on his lips, waiting for permission. Clarke closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his, her arms twining around his neck. 

It was like thunder without sound, it was being struck by lightning. It was everything he’d hoped it would be, and somehow more, as perfect and beautiful as she was.

It was Bellamy who broke away first, the memory of her weakened condition breaking through his thoroughly addled mind.

“You should rest,” he said, helping ease Clarke back onto the pillows. “You’ve got a long recovery ahead of you.”

“You’ll stay?” She reached out and threaded her fingers through his. He smiled.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I did an ok job with this fic and gave you an ending you can be happy with. I'll probably write a second, different version of my original prompt "Clarke drew Bellamy's face every day until he came back" because this is not at all the original intended direction. Thank you to every one who kudo'd, book marked, and commented on this piece. I hope to see you again on my other stories. Xoxo


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